Thursday, November 09, 2006

There's no place like home

It was a long traveling day. Dulles was dull, my seatmates were duller and United is not a fun airline to fly. My seatmates should have been more interesting, but perhaps it was my own fault for not engaging them in conversation. I had a pilot who was unexpected flying on assignment on the forward trip but he engaged in brief small talk and then played some video game the whole trip. Of course it was so bloody early, I couldn't make conversation anyway.

On the way back it looked for a moment, I might get two seats to myself and with a center arm that moved up. I was looking at comfort city when at the last second, three Indian guys in traditional dress, including turbans got on the plane. The turquoise guy sat next to me, but didn't say a word the whole trip. I don't think he spoke English. I was wishing I had drawn the white one, because he looked like he did. Meanwhile, I was stuck with a bratty three year old behind me, kicking the seat and her probably five year old brother who acted out occassionally to get some attention. Meanwhile, the mother sat across the aisle and talked to them incessantly without any apparent effect on their behavior. Not my best draw.

It was exhausting on some level but overall a good trip. It was good to get out of town and I feel like the ex and I reached some resolution that was long overdue.

Anyway, I'm whipped and I know you just want to see the pictures anyway, so here he is in front of his pick up truck. No matter what a man does for a living, if he lives in the south long enough, he's got to have himself a pickup truck.

But this being Atlanta, or thereabouts, one does not have to sacrifice the creature comforts. The requisite pickup truck will take you to the hottest new restaurant on that side of town.

And a feast of carnivorous delights it is. We opted to eat at the bar to avoid the wait for a table on a Wednesday night. We took the seats in front of the firepit because we were freezing. It's a running joke that I bring bad weather every time I go to Atlanta and it was unseasonably cold.

This picture does not do it justice. I can't figure out to turn off the flash so it looks bright, when it was really dark and glowing like a campfire at the end of a night of ghost stories and the food just looked like dark carcasses in the embers.

Word up to the Hotlanta bloggers. It's worth the drive. Good food and a classy crowd. More tomorrow.


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